Lejos de Ti
by FullMetalIdiot
Summary: In silence is a goodbye that he won't soon forget. Shuu/Kira, PG, Death Fic--We're all in realization that I can't make a summary worth jackshit.


**Title **Lejos de Tú Far From You

**Author **JamminBison/FullMetalIdiot

Beta ReaderErinilliana

Dedicated to Ceestar

**Rating **PG for Character Death

**Word Count** 1,008

**Pairing **Shuu/Kira

**Prompt** Umbrella

**Notes** Sections from the poem iAgape/i by Cesar Vellejo are throughout, but don't expect it to rhyme in either language as I took specific lines and not actual stanzas. -- For the record, I always thought marigolds were symbols for grief and pain alternatively affection...?, not despair, but I guess it's sort of one in the same? -- I hope some of you people understand Spanish to some extent

**Notice **I do not claim to own or affiliate myself with the intellectual property of BLEACH nor gain profit from writing fiction based off of said property.

It did not melt upon the paper-thin surface of the umbrella, but shrouded it's simple patterns with heavy flakes of pure white. This snow, which had been coming down for days and refused to stop, casted a dull sky over the Court of Pure Souls as well as the shrinking group that had gathered around a freshly carved stone. Yet, while the others left to attend to matters bigger than themselves as the obsequies ended, he stayed, wrenching the umbrella's handle as if it were attempting to escape from beneath his grasp. Though, the wind did not try to take it from him; as even a mindless force thought it too cruel to take so much from him in such a short span of time. No, he was convinced that no force could take anything larger from his world any longer.

_Hoy no ha venido nadie a preguntar_

Now there was no noise as wind filled the silence left by the mass that had gathered only minutes before, leaving him standing, a solitary figure amidst the cold, wet and dead. It was a familiar scene as of late for all, but a shockingly new one for the blond though he had been witness to many similar processions in the past one of which included his mother and father. He had been cleaning that grave for decades, methodically plodding to the site each month to update the dearly departed of his going-ons while snatching away fallen leaves and burnt incenses. Maybe this would just be another place to add to his list of chores, simply a task assigned to him by a higher authority just like any other assignment; a duty to his superiors.

_No he visto ni una flor de cementario_

_No_, he thought, offering up his personal cover to the elements for the polished rock before him, letting the snow fall freely against the stark black of his uniform, _he doesn't deserve that._ His apathy was reserved for all others besides this man who lay beneath the grave along with the single flower that hung heavier with the weight of each flake that fell upon it's fragile petals. After the others left, he had set the marigold bloom down in an outwardly meaningless gesture, a bland stare accompanied by a secretly clenched jaw that held during the entire service. That resolve was broken, but it didn't matter, no one was there to see the pair of tears run down his cheeks though he refused to break down any further.

_En esta tarde todos, todos pasan_

_--sin preguntarme ni pedirme nada._

A forearm reached up to remove the cold, salty lines from his face, sniffing once and coming to the conclusion that the one before him had seen far too much crying to stand for one day. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave, convincing himself that protecting this symbol, all that was left of his lover and friend, from the elements, was of utmost importance even if the world kept spinning everywhere else.

_Hoy no ha venido nadie;_

_y hoy he muerto qué poco en esta tarde! _

"He was a good man," came a low, naturally grumbling voice, one that would have startled him any other day. Even so, the blond's head swiveled around to confirm the owner of the voice; the massive captain that wore the visage of a fox standing but a few paces behind him holding a parasol of his own. The vice-captain let an arm fall to his side and gave a nod in agreement, eyes focused elsewhere, hoping his eyes had not grown red enough to give him away. Secretly he wished the other would leave him to his own devices, his own grief and not interfere, but the sudden company allowed him to finally take a breath of chilled, fresh air.

Every gust that whistled against the lone grave was painful to listen to, a reminder that there was no family to bury the deceased alongside to keep him company on days like this, days where the world was far too harsh for even the dead. He didn't want to leave him out here like this. It was his job now to watch over him no matter how cold his fingertips and toes became or how often frostbite nipped at his nose. Such trivial, trivial things compared to...to...slipping into this reverie of...

"Come, before you catch your death, Kira-fukutaichou, sir" Came the voice again, this time much closer as the blond noticed that the flakes had stopped falling due to the offered shade of the captain's enormous figure.

"But...If I-"

"He wouldn't want you to fall ill, sir, and after all the commotion today I believe you deserve to rest. He's protecting you now, I'm sure, try not to fret over him too much longer. Hisagi-san never liked when you worried over him,"

"Komamura-taichou?"

"He always spoke very highly of you, though I'm sure you were aware of that."

"N-no, I wasn't aware that he spoke to you that often, captain,"

"Hrmph," It was an amused sound, a smile tugging at the edge of his lip before he spoke once more, "Modest, I see. Both of you were two of a kind when it came down to it. No wonder why he loved you so dearly,"

Turning with a crunch of packed snow to greet him, the captain began to walk off confident that the blond would soon be in tow behind him, this assumption confirmed when the 'grt, grt' of footsteps followed a moment after. It was best to leave; move on for the day to get back to life even if that life was missing a piece, a piece he had grown to so used to that now that it was gone, this life seemed so strange, frightening, and new. Yet, he would come back to the place and tell him about this new life without him, showing him that though it hurt him to do so, he could live on.

Translations:

Hoy no ha venido nadie a preguntar-- Today no one has come to inquire

No he visto ni una flor de cementario-- I have not seen a single cemetery flower

En esta tarde todos, todos pasan-- This afternoon everyone, everyone goes by

sin preguntarme ni pedirme nada-- without asking or begging me anything.

Hoy no ha venido nadie;-- Today nobody has come;

y hoy he muerto qué poco en esta tarde!-- and today I have died so little in the afternoon!


End file.
